Not My Cup of Tea
by Verona-Juliet Esposito
Summary: It's almost time for the war as America muses about a certain memory between himself and his Big Brother. UsUk-Brotherly-angst. Better than it sounds. I just couldn't think of a proper summary.


**So, uhm, hi. I'm kinda new here. I mean, I've been with Hetalia for...I dunno. A month or two? My friend got me into it, and, well, I wanted to do this for them. It's a REALLY late Birthday Present, and I hope they like it. This is my first attempt at Hetalia Fanfiction, so...I hope you enjoy!**

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Alfred stared out the window and watched the rain beat down upon the glass. Today was the day.

His gaze dropped down to the musket in his hands as he thought about what he was about to do.

Of course, he didn't want to. But what choice did he have? It was his Boss's decision.

Arthur had been his Big Brother since...Since...Well, it felt like forever. He could still recall the day that the Brit and Francis had _actually _found him. He remembered how Arthur had given up the moment the Frenchmen tried to woo him with food. Alfred had felt so bad for the Brit, and had immediately chosen him.

Alfred pursed his lips as all the memories from the years spent with his Big Brother flooded his mind.

The food.

The toy soldiers.

The suit.

And all the little good times in between.

But lately—and he wasn't sure if it was caused by Arthur's personal doing, or by _his _Boss's—things between himself and the Brit had become...strained. It seemed as if they were always fighting now!

Alfred still felt bad about that tea thing...

_"America, I'm sorry, but—"_

_"But nothing! You can't keep raising the taxes! Raise them any higher, and my people won't be able to afford to eat!" Alfred snapped as he slammed his fist down on the table._

_Arthur flinched ever so slightly. He wasn't used to Alfred's temper because he was normally so easy-going. But, then again, his temper had been showing a lot more lately...And it was all because of these damned laws his Boss was making!_

_"Look, needs are growing at my place, and I wish I could find another way, but I have no other choice!" Arthur sighed before he picked up his tea and took a delicate sip from the cup._

_An unfamiliar glare set itself upon Alfred's face as the Brit took the sip of tea. "Or maybe you just need more money so you can have your precious tea!" the American suddenly accused as he stood up to tower over the Brit._

_Arthur blinked and paused as he was about to take another sip. "I beg your pardon?"_

_"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you tried to get more money out of us just so you could live more in the life of luxury. Like The Molasses Act!"_

_"Now, see here! That was not my decision! My—"_

_"Yeah, yeah. It was your Boss's. Whatever." Alfred cut the Brit off before turning around. He folded his arms and set his glare on a random wall._

_A firm frown appeared on Arthur's face. "Think what you may, America, but I'm doing this for your own good. You need to learn more responsibility, and I think that maybe, paying more taxes might just—Agh! Bloody hell!"_

_Alfred was seething when he finally turned around and once more cut his Big Brother off by swinging his arm around. By swinging his arm around, he caused the British young man to spill his hot tea everywhere, including on himself! Immediately following this act, Alfred stumbled forward from the quick motion, effectively knocking over the large pot of nearly untouched expensive tea!_

_Arthur gasped, devastated. "H-how dare you! You-you-you bloody wanker! Have you lost your plot? You bloody wazzock!"_

_For a moment after Alfred steadied himself, he was shocked over several things._

_One of them was because he had accidentally knocked tea all over his Big Brother._

_Another was that he had then proceeded to spill the Brit's entire pot of tea—along with some other treats such as scones and biscuits that had been on the table._

_And the last was that, for the very first time, Arthur...had insulted him._

_At first, Alfred was hurt, and he was going to apologize. But then, as he heard the things that his big brother was calling him, he started to see red._

_"...What did you just call me?"_

_Arthur glared. "I called you a wanker and wazzock!" He gestured towards his suit. "Look at what you did! Do you have any idea how much this suit—and that tea!—costs?"_

_"Well, yeah, I kinda do. But I'm pretty sure it's more expensive at my place!"_

_"Why you little prat!"_

_"Chuffer!"_

_"Ligger!"_

_"Mingebag!"_

_"Airy-fairy!"_

_"Gannet!"_

_"Lazy sod!"_

_"Knob head!" Alfred shouted before turning around, suddenly feeling a little ashamed at how course his language was._

_Arthur gasped again, suddenly angry. "Why I never—you turn right back around, this instant and listen to me when I'm speaking to you!"_

_But Alfred just ignored him._

_Arthur gritted his teeth and fisted his hands. "You listen here. I am your Big Brother, and you have to do as I say! Whether you like it or not!"_

_Alfred was silent a moment more before he sighed and looked down. "No."_

_The American didn't say another word as he exited the room, knowing that, after a talk with his Boss, he would still have no choice but to rebel against Britain. They were becoming to overpowering._

_..._

There had been a few other incidents as well, but Alfred was pretty sure that was the worst of them. Never had he used such awful language—and to the man that had raised him, no less!

Guilt wrapped itself around Alfred's heart. His Boss knew they would win this...this war. Arthur cared too much about Alfred, and wouldn't hurt him. But Alfred didn't want to do this. The things he was told...The things he were ordered to say...He would be breaking off any good relationship he had with the Brit.

Alfred felt like he was using his Big Brother! Arthur had made a promise to protect and keep an eye on him, and shooting one's little brother was not protection.

But another part of Alfred was telling him that maybe it wasn't Arthur's Boss that had made him make all those laws. After all, the Brit had only mentioned his Boss once out of all those times. So, did that mean...?

Hurt, confused, and guilt-ridden, the American hardly heard the soldier enter the room. "We're ready, sir."

Alfred looked down, murmuring quietly, "I know." He then looked up at the crying skies, wishing he could let his own clouds empty their feelings. But after a quiet moment, he sighed and turned around, a firm, unreadable expression on his face. "Let's get this over with."

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**Well, there you go. Oh, and by the way, all of the insults are British. I thought that maybe, with growing up with Arthur, Alfred would know them quite a bit. Yup. And I think you can all guess what the fight was. *winks* Anybody? Come on. Ya gotta know it. But, yeah. I just hope y'all enjoyed it. Leave me a review, please, to let me know!**

**Forever and Always, Nikki.**


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